A Tale of Devoted Vigilance
by This Is Da Vinci Speaking
Summary: Prequel to Like Hornets Protecting Their Hive. Semmary Dufila meets the King of the Gypsies for the first time, and they get along famously. But of course, disaster strikes....
1. First

**Whoo! The first chapter of my prequel! Now, unlike the...um...sequel?...this one isn't finished. I will TRY not to lose interest, I promise. But I have quite a bit down, anyway, so you shouldn't be worried. Here it is!**

**Another note: You may recognize some parts from the flashback in the original, and if you hate re-reading stuff like that, don't worry, I changed some of it a little bit. Just think of it as the details that weren't remembered.

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**A Tale of Devoted Vigilance  
**First

"Semmary, go get some bread!" Bartholomé Dufila called out to his only daughter, sticking his head out of the caravan window. "We're out again!"

Semmary sighed. "Can't you get it yourself?" she half-heartedly asked. "I'm busy here."

"You aren't," her father shouted at her. "Go get the bread!"

Semmary's mother was heard from inside the caravan. "Stop yelling at her, Bartholomé!" she was shrieking. "She's done nothing to you!"

"Well, Isadora, if she wasn't lying around all day like a lump on a log—!"

"_Fine_!" Semmary yelled. "I'll go get the bread!" With that, she stood up, abandoning her cloth coloring to fetch the bread. As she headed to the markets, she muttered, "Would you like it shoved down your throat or shoved up your—"

"Associate yourself with these beautiful jewels," a vendor called out to Semmary as she passed. She sighed.

"I have no money, sir," she muttered to him. "I'm only twelve."

She got to the bread shop and sighed again. Unfortunately, she was going to have to do what she really didn't like doing.

Semmary pressed her back to the wall inside an alley, looking around the corner to see if the baker had left his post at the window. When he did, she leapt into action, running to the window and snatching a loaf off of the sill. Thankfully no one saw her.

She had to be swift about getting home. She knew a way to get to her family's caravan quicker by cutting through Notre Dame. She had gotten safely inside, closing the giant doors behind her, and she was halfway through it when a man suddenly fell from what appeared to her to be the ceiling. He crouched in front of her.

"Aren't you going to claim Sanctuary?"

"_Merde_!" Semmary cried, dropping the bread and covering her mouth quickly.

The man had a peculiar purple mask on and a tattered blue hat with a feather the same color as the mask. He frowned, remaining in the crouched position.

"Or I suppose you could claim an expletive. Although why you chose that particular one…." He dusted his arms. "Aren't you a little young to be going around cursing like a Viking?" he asked mysteriously. "Let alone in a house of God?" He stood up straight, revealing himself to be several feet taller than little Semmary, and very slim in build. He was obviously an acrobat of some kind.

"I don't believe in God," Semmary hissed, picking the bread back up and glaring at the man. She wasn't about to reveal more until she knew who this man was. "Who are you and where did you come from?"

"I'm your worst nightmare and I came from my mother."

Semmary raised an eyebrow, remaining silent.

"Well, _honestly_," the man said dramatically, crossing his arms. "Not only did you insult God, but you insulted God in a _house_ of God. You didn't really think I was going to tell you my name, did you?"

"I guess only the faithful deserve a name and only the faithful deserve to know it, huh?" Semmary snapped, pushing past him and continuing on her way.

The man was silent for a minute.

"You're very mature for your age, Semmary."

She stopped in her tracks and looked at the ground. It took her a few seconds to realize that he'd called her by her name…which she hadn't said at all. She slowly turned around.

"Who are you?" she asked again, this time with a softer voice. She still had caution, however.

He smiled and bowed, removing his hat. "Clopin Trouillefou."

"Oh, great," Semmary groaned. "I insulted the Gypsy King!"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Clopin hissed suddenly, raising his hands to hush her. "We'll keep this 'king' business between the gypsies, yes?" He sighed and went over to Semmary, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Judge Claude Frollo would not appreciate hearing there were gypsies in Notre Dame, let alone the king."

Semmary looked up, attempting to find where he'd been suspended or perched before he'd dropped down. There was nothing but a balcony, and that was too far away. "Where were you…I mean…how were you…?"

The Gypsy King laughed. "Ah, I can do many things, Semma." He frowned. "You don't mind if I call you Semma, do you?"

She shook her head.

"Well, anyways," Clopin continued as he and Semmary walked to the pews, "you're probably wondering why I risked coming here." He stopped walking, as did Semmary, and he stared in horror in front of him. "Behind the pews, _now_," he hissed.

Semmary dove behind a pew, preparing to cover her head. She gazed out of a space between the bottom of the pew and the floor, and she nearly gasped when she recognized the haughty, conservative gait that a certain Claude Frollo possessed. He passed her with an upturned nose, not even noticing her. When Semmary was sure he was gone, she came out from behind the pew.

"That was close." She turned…but Clopin wasn't anywhere. She sighed. "Figures."

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**What'd you think, eh? You like it so far?**


	2. Second

**Oh man. I really should be in bed, seeing as I'm sick. But...I must keep this story going! I must!**

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**A Tale of Devoted Vigilance  
**Second

Clopin looked down at Paris from the highest point of Notre Dame. He was crouched on a gargoyle, frowning, not completely there. He was concentrating on three things: the wind, not falling off, and the sunset. The wind wasn't too bad—just a mild breeze—but it still pushed him a little, considering how still he was being and how high up he was.

He narrowed his eyes and stroked his chin. "Mm," he muttered to himself. The sun was already covering up its last rays. For some odd reason, he couldn't quite get little Semmary off his mind. He had noticed a light bruise on her right arm but hadn't said anything. He didn't want to pry, nor did he want to scare her.

Clopin removed his mask and sighed. He already had two kids to look after…he hardly needed to play guardian to anyone else. But he found himself worrying about Semmary.

Sitting down and letting his legs swing idly off the sides of the gargoyle, Clopin rested his chin in one hand and raised an eyebrow at the gathering fog in Paris. "Esmeralda isn't really a kid anymore," Clopin muttered into his hand. "Quasi's only ten…"

The wind picked up, much to the young Gypsy King's dismay. He lost his balance and soon found himself hanging upside-down on the gargoyle, much like a sloth on a tree branch.

"Yes," Clopin hissed excitedly as he let his hands go and hung by his knees. "You know I love a challenge!" he said to the cathedral as his hat fell off his head and down to Paris. "Let's play 'Try to Retrieve Clopin's Hat'."

Looking up—down—he scrutinized the side of the building for other gargoyles. He saw one, but it was too far down.

Clopin grinned. "This is going to be too easy."

oOooOo

Semmary walked quickly towards the back entrance of Notre Dame, wanting to get as far away from her caravan as possible. The things she heard her parents scream to each other were starting to get unbearable.

Her parents had been at each other's throats for as long as she could remember. For all she knew, she wasn't even planned….

She trudged out the front door of the cathedral and was startled when she felt something fairly light hit her head. She took it off her head and found it was a tattered blue hat with a royal violet feather attached. She looked up…and saw something—some_one_—falling to the ground. She was about to call for help but was stopped short when she witnessed something incredible.

The person grabbed a rope hanging from the bell towers and quickly pushed his feet off the stone wall, causing him to swing outwards and towards the left bell tower. He let go of the rope and landed neatly on the bridge connecting the towers, then he did a cartwheel, two forward hand springs, and dove towards a gargoyle jutting from the left side of Notre Dame. He pivoted across the gargoyles, falling and swinging with a jesting sort of grace, until he got close enough to the ground to let himself fall.

Semmary stared with wide eyes as Clopin landed skillfully in front of her, standing up and taking his hat back. He put it on, tilted it over his right eye, grinned, and winked at Semmary before heading away.

"Wait," Semmary said impulsively.

Clopin turned on his heel and placed a hand on his hip. "Yes?"

"That was amazing…."

"Thank you," Clopin said, slowly turning back around. He took a step.

"Can I stay with you tonight?"

Time stopped.

Clopin turned his head ever-so-slightly. "_Pardonnez-moi_," he laughed after an uncomfortable silence. "It sounded like you asked to stay with me tonight."

Semmary nodded. "I did."

When the King of the Gypsies turned around once again, he seemed as if he wanted to make a point completely clear. "Do you always greet people like this?"

"Only when I don't have anywhere to go," the girl said quietly, wrapping her wool shawl around her shoulders tighter. "My…parents are having a row over nothing. Again." She bit her lip. "Please? I promise I won't be too much of a bother."

Clopin raised a sly eyebrow and stroked his chin thoughtfully, weighing the options. Have her go home to misery and possible self-destruction, or have her go with him and be at peace for one night?

"Alright," he concluded. "But if I don't like you, I'm kicking you out, agreed?"

Semmary nodded silently.


	3. Third

**I must say I actually like this prequel better than I like _Hornets_. Probably because I get to explain the BEGINNING OF EVERYTHING. That's always fun.**

**You'll get less from me up here later on.**

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**A Tale of Devoted Vigilance  
**Third

"Uh."

Clopin frowned and held his chin in his hand, tapping his fingers on his lips. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, shaking his head. He glanced at the girl standing beside him, then back to the problem. "I could…." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I could sleep on the floor."

The problem was, as the two noticed with a certain uneasiness, that Clopin seemed to have forgotten that he only had one bed. It wasn't really a bed; a bunch of cloth was stuffed into a larger linen sack. Either way…there was only one.

Semmary shook her head, tugging on the frayed ends of her shawl. "No, I will."

"Heavens no, child," Clopin exclaimed, waving the notion away dismissively. "You're the guest."

Semmary frowned at him. "I've slept on the ground outside before; I think I can handle a wood floor."

"All the more reason why you get the bed."

"I'm not sleeping in the bed!"

"Well, you're not sleeping on the _floor_, either!"

The two glared at each other for a few seconds. Then they both—simultaneously and apprehensively—looked over at the bed again.

"We…_could_ compromise, I suppose," Clopin murmured. "I mean…you get it for one half of the night, then I get it for the last half."

"I'll take the last half."

"Are you purposefully trying to get me to act like a deranged fool?!"

Semmary raised an eyebrow. "You pretty much have the fool thing down, don't you, Monsieur Topsy-Turvy?"

Clopin again opened his mouth to say something, but what Semmary said processed in his brain and he closed his mouth. Then he smiled. "You're a wily little imp, aren't you?"

Semmary smirked. "So you get the bed."

"I think you're about to be severely injured."

"We could share."

"And you just keep—" He froze mid-sentence. "Hm. You don't think you could…repeat that, do you?"

Semmary shrugged. "We could share. I'm small; I probably won't take much space. It's getting colder, so sleeping on the floor would be a mistake anyway."

Clopin looked at his bed again. "Don't you think that's a tad…ill-suited?"

"To freeze or not to freeze."

Clopin sighed.

oOooOo

When Semmary opened her eyes, it was still exceedingly dark. She wagered it was about midnight.

Looking over, she saw that she was alone in the caravan. She frowned and rubbed her eyes. Out the window she saw snow falling slowly to the ground.

Semmary got out of the bed and shuffled over to the door, opening it. When she stuck her head out, a ball of violet thread fell to the ground in front of her. A piece of thread was coming from the top of the caravan.

She walked outside and looked at the roof, crossing her arms and frowning.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Clopin cut the thread he was using with his teeth and tied it in a knot on the piece of purple fabric. "Sitting. What are _you_ doing?"

Semmary noticed he had a thick wool blanket and a cloak that was probably twice as thick. He was wearing the cloak and sitting on the blanket. "I'm wondering what you're doing on the roof."

"I'm thinking of growing a beard."

The twelve-year-old raised her eyebrows, brushing snowflakes off her face. "Maybe you have issues."

Clopin quirked an eyebrow, still not looking up from his needlework. "Where's your shawl, Imp?"

"It's inside. I'm not an imp."

"Shouldn't you be wearing it, Elf?"

Semmary disappeared inside the caravan and returned wearing her shawl. She was considerably warmer. "I'm not an elf."

"Pixie?" Clopin asked obnoxiously, cutting a gold piece of thread with his teeth.

Semmary scowled, then picked up a handful of snow, forming it into a ball. She chucked it at the king, hitting him square on the forehead.

Clopin blinked a few times, shook the snow off his face, then continued with his needlework. "Well," he muttered. "You made me stab my tongue. Are you happy now?"

Semmary sat in the snow, frowning. She was still for a while, and after she sniffed and wiped her eyes of tears twice, she heard Clopin hop off the roof of the caravan, landing in the snow with a soft _crunch_. She heard footsteps, then out of the corner of her eye she saw him sit next to her, holding his chin in his hand.

"You know," he said gently, "sometimes you have to realize that life isn't always fair."

Semmary said nothing, looking away from Clopin, relieved that he didn't think she was crying because of him, nor was she mad at him. At least that's how he came off.

"Naturally I know a lot of people in Paris," Clopin continued, "and I do know that your parents bicker a lot." He brushed snow off of Semmary's shawl. "I know it won't help much, but I am sorry about that. Unfortunately some mothers and fathers don't realize how brilliant or beautiful or talented their children are."

Semmary couldn't hold her tears back this time. She hid her face in her hands and cried. Clopin sighed and wrapped his arms comfortingly around her shoulders.

"It'll be alright, Duckling."


	4. Fourth

**Sorry this chapter's so short. And for the lack of chapter titles. I suck at those.**

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**A Tale of Devoted Vigilance  
**Fourth

"Merry Christmas, Peanut!" Clopin called excitedly as Semmary opened the door to her family's caravan. "You'll never guess what I got you."

Semmary's eyes widened. "You actually got me something?" she gasped.

Clopin raised an eyebrow. "No, I was saying I did for no reason all. I thought it would be fun to get your hopes up and watch your face as I utterly crushed them." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Get it together, Imp, and come with me."

He led her to Notre Dame, stopping before they entered. Suddenly he seemed nervous. He glanced at his younger friend, then bit his lip.

"Er," he muttered. "Stay here for a tic?"

Semmary nodded.

Clopin ran to a gargoyle and took a flying leap at it. He did a full rotation around it, then let go and hooked his knees on another one. He did this until he reached a rope, where he swung onto the bridge between towers. He landed gracefully on his feet and ran to the hunchback's bell tower. He put his mask on before peeking in through the enormous ventilation window.

"Quasi?"

A little boy—smaller than Semmary—looked up and around from his place in the corner of the room. He had a deformed face, but it was still obvious that he was sad.

"C'mere," Clopin whispered, waving a hand in his direction.

Quasimodo limped over to the gypsy, eyes wide in question. "Y-yes?"

"Do you remember me, Quasi?" Clopin asked, fixing his cloak.

"No…."

"Good." Clopin seemed slightly perturbed by this. "It's good to know that you'll greet complete strangers with no thought at all." He let out a breath, having been taken aback by the hunchback's answer. "Well, anyway, I'm not a complete stranger. I wanted to know how you're doing."

Quasimodo shrugged half-heartedly. "I'm a little lonely in here. I wish I had someone to talk to."

Clopin tilted his head to the side and glanced out onto the balcony. His eyes locked onto a trio of amusing-looking decorative gargoyles sitting side-by-side on the ledge. He had a sudden moment of insight. "Oh really?" He looked back to the ten-year-old and grinned. "Well, since I can't be here all the time, and since it's Christmas and basically the one time in the whole year where I care about anyone else," he added jokingly, "I'm going to make absolute sure that you're no longer as lonely up here."

With that, he leapt off of the wall and landed beside the gargoyles. He crouched beside them, throwing them an impish little grin. He reached in his cloak and withdrew a clenched fist.

"Live, friends," he murmured, throwing what was in his fist at the three gargoyles. "There's a hunchbacked little boy who needs you."

Suddenly the stone creatures came to life, choking and spitting on the dust Clopin threw at them.

"Hey, hey, hey!" the one resembling a hog with horns spat. "Watch where you're throwing that dirt!" He brushed his tongue with his hooves.

"You wouldn't have gotten it in your mouth if you kept it shut every once in a while," the monkey-ish old gargoyle snapped.

The last and tallest gargoyle examined his stone nails idly. "She has a point."

"You," the old gargoyle said to Clopin as he watched them with an eyebrow raised amusedly. "You're the one who brought us to life. Don't you think you should give us names?" She crossed her arms. "Unless you think we should go around calling each other The Big Scaredy Cat, The Old Cranky One, and The Fat, Stupid One with a Big Mouth."

Clopin chuckled. "Although that would be amusing, I guess names would only be fair." He stroked his chin. "Alright. You're Laverne." He looked at the hog. "You look like a Hugo. You, _mon ami_, look like a Victor." He suddenly looked at the ground of Paris. "_Mon Dieu_, I must depart. I have other Christmases to destroy," he joked. "There's a lonely young boy in that bell tower I want you to befriend."

"Bye, Santa!" Hugo called as the gypsy leapt off the balcony. "Nice kid."

Laverne smacked him. "He's not a kid, you moron."

Clopin climbed down to the ground again and approached Semmary, but quickly hid when he noticed she was writing something idly in the snow. He looked silently over her shoulder and his eyes widened.

It was a big heart with the letter C in the middle.

Clopin slowly smiled, covering his face with his hand.

oOooOo

"Thank you for the dyes, Clopin," Semmary said earnestly as they headed back to her caravan after Clopin gave her a set of cloth dyes and the two of them engaged in a fun snowball fight.

Clopin smiled. "_L n'y a pas de quoi_," he replied, winking at her.

Semmary blushed moderately and bit her lip. "Oh," she remembered, "what were you doing at Notre Dame?"

"There's a boy who lives in the bell tower," he answered. "He's two years younger than you are. He's a hunchback; the poor kid is forbidden from leaving the cathedral." He then sneered. "Frollo is raising him."

Semmary frowned.

"Anyway," Clopin continued, "I went to go check on him because I'm his unofficial guardian. I gave him a few friends to talk to because he's always so lonely up there."

"Oh," Semmary said again. "That was really sweet of you."

Clopin arched an eyebrow. "How do I know you're not just saying that?" he teased.

They arrived at Semmary's caravan in good spirits.

"Thanks again, Clopin," Semmary echoed herself, fidgeting on her front step. She quickly leaned forward, gave him a peck on the cheek, then just as quickly disappeared into the caravan.

Clopin touched his cheek, grinning and shaking his head.


	5. Fifth

**A Tale of Devoted Vigilance  
**Fifth

Clopin passed by Semmary's caravan a few days later, and he stopped upon seeing her sitting on the front step. He frowned.

"What's the matter, Puppy?"

Semmary sighed. "They're going at it again."

Clopin sat beside her. "Are you going to be alright?"

There was a crash; something fragile had been thrown against the wall in the caravan. Semmary flinched.

"Maybe not," she muttered.

He friend sighed as well. "Tell them to stop."

Semmary stared at him incredulously. "You're not very smart, are you?" she mumbled under her breath, hugging her knees to her chest.

Clopin frowned and pursed his lips. "That may be," he nodded. "But I'm telling you as a friend that you probably should tell them to stop fighting. If it's hurting you that much—"

"Listen," Semmary interrupted, standing up and walking away from Clopin. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but whatever you tell me, it's not going to work, I assure you." She gathered her thoughts. "My parents have been fighting since I was born. You don't know what that's like to see your dad come home from whatever he's doing behind your back, and walk up to your mom…and hit her. And not just once; over and over again. When you're six years old…." She unexpectedly burst into tears. "God, when you're six years old, you see that and think your father's a monster. You think you were spawned from some sort of demon…even when you weren't. It hurts every day to remember that…."

Clopin watched her sadly.

Semmary continued. "I can't sum up the courage to say anything to him, because I'm constantly afraid that he'll hit _me_." She crossed her shaking arms. "I just wanted them to be at peace with each other. I want them to stop hurting me. My mother is _much_ stronger than that, I know she is." Her voice dropped several notches. "He's taking away the sanctuary I had in my own home."

There was a scream from inside Semmary's caravan, and both her and Clopin rushed to the window to look inside.

"_NO_!" Semmary screamed, sprinting to the door and throwing it open. "_FATHER_!!"

Her father backed up against the wall, looking at his wife's body in horror. Clopin ran in and immediately turned to the twelve-year old.

"Oh my God…go back!" he told Semmary. "Go back, _now_!"

"NO!" Semmary shouted at him. "NO! I HATE YOU, FATHER! I'VE ALWAYS HATED YOU!!" She lunged forward, but Clopin held her back.

He backed her up against a wall and looked over his shoulder at Semmary's father. "How could you?" he asked under his breath.

Bartholomé wiped his eyes, turning very pale. "I…I…."

"HE KILLED HER!!" Semmary screamed at the top of her lungs, tears running swiftly down her face. She struggled to get free of Clopin's grasp. "HE KILLED MY MOTHER!" She sobbed. "He killed her…!"

"Get _OUT_, Semmary!!" Clopin countered, trying to push her out of the caravan. His own eyes were watering. "I don't want you to see this!!"

Semmary fell to her knees, her face in her hands. She could barely breathe, she was crying so hard. Clopin fell to his knees as well, right beside her. He took her in his arms and held her tightly, stroking her hair. "_Veuillez avoir la pitié, Seigneur_," he whispered. "_Soulagez cet enfant de douleur_…."

Semmary cried into his chest, trying with all her might to erase the vision she saw in her head….

"Get me out," she whispered to Clopin, who immediately picked her up and exited the caravan, throwing her father a disgusted look as he slammed the door shut with his foot.

"I hope you rot in Hell," he murmured to the other man.

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**My French is wrong again, I bet. Of course, seeing as I'm not French and I only speak a limited amount...**


	6. Sixth

**I like this chapter quite a bit. The chapters are gonna be shorter so I can stretch this out for as long as humanly possible. 'Kay? 'Kay. ((Happily munches the cookies therubynightmare gave her.))

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**A Tale of Devoted Vigilance  
**Sixth

"Did you want to help me sew this together?"

Semmary kept her gaze on the wall. She was hugging her knees and sitting on Clopin's bed, trembling slightly. The sight made Clopin's heart twist into little knots. "No," the girl whispered.

Clopin frowned and watched her silently. He wanted to say something, but he found that whenever he tried, he changed his mind. He couldn't think of what to say to a girl who was almost thirteen and had just witnessed the seconds after her father had stabbed her mother.

He looked at his needlework; he was now sewing together another bed for Semmary. He was going to let her live in his caravan—he wasn't about to let her father get _her_, too.

As he eyed the bed, he had a thought. "I'm going to get your things," he said to the frightened girl. "Will you be alright in here by yourself, Teacup?"

Semmary wiped her eyes on her sleeve and nodded.

With that, Clopin exited his caravan and practically flew to Semmary's. When he got to the front door, he took a flying leap, grabbed the edge of the roof, and kicked the door down with his feet. There was a startled yell.

"Shut it, you," Clopin snapped, swinging into the caravan and twirling his dagger, one hand on his hip. "Where are Semmary's effects?"

Bartholomé hiccupped from the corner of the room. "You know where she is?" he asked in a wavering voice.

Clopin narrowed one eye at the cowering man, raising an eyebrow. "You're pathetic. You really are. You have no feelings towards anyone else other than yourself; that's why you killed Semmary's mother to get her out of your hair. I'm surprised you even noticed your daughter was gone."

Bartholomé stood up. "Who the hell are you, anyway? What have you done with my daughter?"

"I," Clopin yelled, pointing his dagger at the taller man with such an authority that it seemed as if the king was the larger one, "am going to do _much_ more harm to you than you did to Isadora if you don't shut the hole in your face and show me where your daughters' things are, do I make myself _clear_, monsieur?"

"Why do you have her?!"

"Because it's about time someone loved her besides herself, isn't it?!" Clopin shouted. "You were too busy arguing with your wife to care that you were hurting Semmary little by little with your words! My God, she's only twelve years old! Do you have no _decency_ or _pride_?! Did you even notice when she spent the night with _me_?" he added in a deadly whisper.

Bartholomé's eyes widened. "When—?" He quickly shut his mouth.

Clopin gaped at Bartholomé for a few seconds, then stood up straight, twirling his dagger with his fingers. He laughed. "I love it when my point is proven. Not to worry; Semmary is much safer living with me than she ever was here. Show me where her belongings are or I'm cutting you."

Bartholomé gathered Semmary's things and gave them to Clopin, who laughed again.

"I'm forbidding you from seeing your daughter," he chirped as he walked out the door. "If I see you so much as even look in her general direction…." He turned to Bartholomé. "I'm going to kill you."

He shut the door with his foot again.

Clopin kicked his door open and entered his caravan. He turned, stopped, and grinned.

Semmary was fast asleep on his bed, and Clopin noticed with a slight frown that she was sweating rather badly. She still had her shawl around her shoulders, and the heat of the caravan combined with the heat from the shawl was apparently too much.

Clopin set her stuff down and quietly went over to her, kneeling down beside her. He placed a gentle hand on her arm, where the bruise was. Semmary moved slightly, still asleep.

The Gypsy King untied her shawl carefully, relieving her of the excess heat. He watched his friend sleep, and he brushed a lock of hair from her face. "Such a pretty girl," he whispered. "Such a shame…so much pain…." He softly stroked the side of her face with his thumb. "You're safe now."

Semmary reached up and took Clopin's hand, the deep sleep still blanketing her. She turned onto her back.

Clopin smiled softly and lay down next to her, kissing her gently on the forehead before falling asleep as well.


	7. Seventh

**This is possibly one of my favorites.**

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**A Tale of Devoted Vigilance  
**Seventh

Semmary opened her eyes to find Clopin sewing together a puppet. He looked like he was in deep concentration, and he even had his tongue sticking out a little from the corner of his mouth. He was nearly finished…and when he did, his face relaxed and he held it at arm's length, admiring his work.

It was a near spitting image of himself. It even had a hat with a tiny purple feather sticking from it.

"Is that you?" Semmary asked quietly. She realized the only light in the place was a dim candle, and she remembered she was in Clopin's caravan. The events of the previous day suddenly came rushing back to her.

Clopin glanced at her before looking at the puppet again. "Sort of. I'm not sure I like it, though." He frowned, stroking his chin in thought. "It seems like something's not quite right with it."

Semmary sat up and watched as Clopin pinched the tiny feather with his index finger and thumb, and he squeezed it upwards. The feather was now yellow. "Amazing," she whispered.

Clopin removed his own hat and looked at the feather on it. He ran his hand over it, and it turned yellow as well. He put it back on, looking over at Semmary. "Did you want to look at the puppet?"

The younger girl nodded and stood, walking over to where he was seated.

He put the puppet on his hand and made it wave to her. She smiled and pet its head. After a few seconds, her smile faded.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Clopin set the puppet down again. "For what?"

Semmary looked at the floor and bit her lip a little. "For getting me out of my own life. For not wanting me to see the knife in my mother…for protecting me."

Clopin smiled. "It was nothing."

Semmary picked up the puppet. "Are you going to name it?"

The king watched her. "I was thinking of naming it Puppet," he answered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "What do you think?"

"I think that you can do much better," Semmary laughed. Her face was happy, but her eyes and heart were not. She knew Clopin knew it. Her smile faded after a while.

"C'mere, Kip," he sighed, pulling her over to him and sitting her on his knee. "You're a strong little mademoiselle," he told her, nicking her under the chin gently with his knuckle. "I know—I _know_—that you can pull through this. It's okay to be sad; it's okay to cry. It is. But one day you'll look back on it and see—and granted, it'll be hard—that everything happens for a reason. It was your mother's time," he added softly. "I just wish for you that she left peacefully."

Semmary started to cry as she listened to Clopin speak. She knew he was right. "I do, too."

They sat in silence for a while, then Clopin spoke again.

"Can I do anything to help you feel better?"

Semmary bit her lip. "Maman used to hold my hand." She blushed. "It's sort of childish. But it would make me feel a lot better."

Clopin reached around and took Semmary's folded hands apart, holding hers firmly in one of his gloved hands. He leaned back in his chair and let Semmary rest her head on his chest, closing her eyes and being lulled to sleep by his steady heartbeat. As she drifted off once more, she was six years old all over again.

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**I love everyone who's reviewing and those who aren't but should be. Yay!**


	8. Eighth

**I frickin' love the puppet.****

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**A Tale of Devoted Vigilance  
**Eighth

A year passed, and Clopin was feeling more and more like an older brother to Semmary. Of course, it wasn't exactly like a sibling feeling…he found a part of him had a different sensation. That part of him was starting to feel like he harbored stronger feelings towards the thirteen-year-old.

This made him feel rather guilty.

"Sure," he'd caught himself saying to his puppet. "There are a lot of men my age with wives as young as fourteen."

"Yeah, but you're disturbed," the puppet replied in Clopin's voice.

Clopin had stuffed the puppet under his bed angrily. "I'm not disturbed," he muttered to no one.

"Well, you _are_ talking to yourself."

Clopin looked up and saw Semmary standing in the doorway, watching him with an amused expression. "Puppet was talking back to me," he said, standing up.

Semmary nodded. "I see. What did you want to show me?"

The older gypsy led her out of the caravan, heading towards Notre Dame. "Where were you? You weren't in your bed when I woke up this morning."

She shrugged. "I was looking for a post."

They were walking side-by-side out of the Court of Miracles, and Clopin paused, taken aback by her answer. "A post! Aren't you a tad young yet?"

He immediately wished he could take that sentence back. Semmary looked sideways at him, a knowing smirk on her face that made her appear more mentally mature than she was. "Who are you asking?" she teased.

Clopin bit his tongue. "I'm asking you, Imp."

"Well, I'm almost fourteen. I think I can get a small post," she said, changing subjects.

"Would you share earnings?"

Semmary fixed her bracelets. "Maybe." She smiled. "I'm just kidding. Of course I would. You're my hero," she added, unexpectedly wrapping an arm around Clopin's waist.

Clopin nearly tripped and fell flat on his face. "Now I know you're just saying that." He raised an eyebrow and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trying to balance the contact and help him regain his composure. "I'm a bad influence. I caught you trying to climb on the roof yesterday."

"I was doing no such thing!"

Clopin grinned. "I know you did because I saw you, Imp. You kept kicking the window."

"Maybe I wanted to see what it was like," Semmary stuck her tongue out at him. "It had nothing to do with you."

"You also were trying my hat on."

"I think it's pretty!"

"You drew a heart with the letter C in the snow last year."

"I—" Semmary stopped short and closed her mouth. "That was for…cath—Christm—" She looked quickly away and pulled away from Clopin, walking a little faster ahead of him.

They both reached Notre Dame, and Clopin forced himself to forget the situation. It seemed Semmary had already done so as well. One step at a time.


	9. Ninth

**Since this one is mostly familiar, I'll post another chapter with it.**

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**A Tale of Devoted Vigilance  
**Ninth

"He looks funny."

Clopin frowned up at Semmary, who was sitting on his shoulders and watching Quasimodo go about his daily business in the bell tower of Notre Dame. "Of course he does, silly, he's a _hunchback_." He lightly smacked her leg. "Surely, even for thirteen years old, you've figured that out."

Semmary stuck her tongue out at him again and continued watching Quasimodo. He was so small; it was hard to believe he was only two years Semmary's junior.

_Crickle_.

Semmary felt a small tremor, and Clopin tensed. "Oh," he muttered, looking at the stone beneath him. "Well, this is going to put a damper on my day."

_Ch-CHACK_.

Semmary barely had time to scream before the gargoyle broke clean off of the side of the building. To her, everything was going by in a blur…then her life flashed before her eyes, and she saw a white light steadily coming towards her…it was light reflecting off of the rose window.

Wait….

_CRASH_!

Both Clopin and Semmary screamed as they crashed through the giant rose window, yet only managing to damage a small portion of it. They flew to the ground, both in hysterics, and Clopin grabbed Semmary and turned his back to the floor. He knew this was going to hurt….

_THWACK_.

Suddenly, they were swinging towards the wall with the rose window; the rope Clopin had grabbed onto had wrapped itself around his ankle.

"I probably should've stayed in bed to begin with," Clopin said almost nonchalantly as they both braced themselves for impact with the wall….

It never happened. The rope gave, and they tumbled to the floor, managing a few bumps and bruises.

Clopin and Semmary literally rolled head-over-heels across the room until Clopin hit the wall with a sickening _thud_. He sprawled out on the floor, and Semmary rolled right on top of him.

They were silent.

"All this for an ugly bell-ringer?" Semmary asked hoarsely.

Clopin laughed, and it was a while before he stopped. When he did stop, however, he sat up and looked down at the girl. "You can't say that wasn't an adventure, can you, Semma?"

Semmary started to laugh and let her forehead sit on Clopin's chest for a few seconds. "I almost died in a cathedral."

"Almost," Clopin pointed out, propping himself up on his elbows. "Which means you didn't."

"Would you have let me die in a cathedral?"

"Heavens no," Clopin assured her. "Maybe the sewage or catacombs of England." He shook his head. "But never a cathedral."

Semmary threw him a look and sat up. "How's your ankle?"

"It's completely severed," he said sarcastically. "I'll never see Quasi again."

"Shame," Semmary said quickly, standing up and running out of the cathedral, almost stumbling because she was laughing so hard. Clopin was close on her heels.


	10. Tenth

**I love you. Yay! But I do love Gophan more. Haha.****

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**A Tale of Devoted Vigilance  
**Tenth

"Ah! _Merde_!"

"Haha! I believe I just out-aced you, Trouillefou!"

Clopin threw his hand of cards on the ground in anger. "You cheated, I'm sure."

His childhood friend Gophan Tartou smirked and waved his hand of cards in Clopin's face. "I don't cheat. I'm sworn, remember? 'I, Gophan Mathieu Tartou—'"

"—shall not ever lie or cheat save for in the face of danger, i.e. Clopin Trouillefou." Clopin sneered; he never meant any anger towards his friend.

Gophan laughed heartily. "Well, those weren't the _exact_ words," he mused.

Clopin grinned. "You ninny," he muttered.

"Who's a ninny?" Semmary asked, poking her head out of Clopin's caravan. "Tell me!"

"Not I," Clopin answered, dealing out another hand of cards and winking at Gophan.

Gophan examined his nails. "Nor I."

"Oh dear," Clopin exclaimed. "You're the only one left."

Semmary pounced on him, hooking her arms around his neck. Clopin laughed and continued dealing. "You lie!" Semmary said playfully. "What are you two playing?"

"A game we created when we were strapping young lads," Gophan answered. "Forever ago."

Clopin quirked an eyebrow. "Speak for yourself, you paunchy bonehead. _I've_ still got my appeal."

"I'm not _paunchy_; this is muscle."

Clopin reached over and punched Gophan in the stomach. His fist bounced back sharply. "That, my dear Gopher, is a paunch."

"It is not. Semmary, who's more attractive? From a fifteen-year-old girl's point of view; we're not actually expecting you to think one of us is attractive."

Both Semmary and Clopin stared at him in horror.

"Erm," Semmary murmured, sitting away from Clopin. "I—"

"Ah," Clopin interrupted. "Of course, she has her eye on another lad, so her opinion is null."

"Oh, who?"

Clopin rolled his eyes and made a show of scoffing. "You know…Payl's son."

Gophan and Semmary raised their eyebrows in unison. "_Father_ Payl?" Gophan asked.

"Uh…sure."

Semmary smacked her forehead. She looked at Clopin's best mate. "Alright, I confess. I had a crush on Clopin a few years ago. It's over now. It was just a little girl's crush. So naturally I found him more attractive." She stood. "But as I said, I don't anymore."

She left, and Clopin sat there, staring at the ground.

"That was cute," Gophan said. "I guess it evolved from living with you for three years."

Clopin glanced at his friend and shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Probably," he murmured. He shook his head roughly to snap himself out of the stupor, and they continued playing cards as if nothing happened.

oOooOo

Semmary went outside and looked on the roof. "What are you doing?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Clopin sighed through his nose and stared out into space. He appeared pensive. "Clearing my head," he said under his breath. "I can't sleep."

Semmary frowned, then looked at the edge of the roof. She bit her lip, backing up a few feet. With a grunt, she took a running leap at it, grabbed hold of it, and pulled herself up. She sat next to Clopin, hugging her knees.

"I'm impressed," he said to her.

The girl frowned at him. "Why are you sad? You're not you when you're sad."

Clopin shrugged. "I was thinking of Esmeralda. She's eighteen now, you know. She's on her own."

They were silent for a second, then Clopin was startled to feel Semmary take his hand and hold it, much like he did for her three years ago after her mother died. He smiled sadly and squeezed her hand.


	11. Eleventh

**Oh giggle! This is possibly my MOST favorite chapter.****

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**A Tale of Devoted Vigilance  
**Eleventh

It happened.

The event wasn't planned; it wasn't even completely desired. It just happened.

It was a few days before Christmas, and as a tradition they recently started, Clopin and Semmary went to Notre Dame and re-enacted their meeting. Of course, the church was closed for the afternoon on the few days before Christmas, which was in favor for the two of them since they had a tendency to get quite silly in their reminiscing. Once Clopin landed several feet away from Semmary instead of right in front of her, and he had to frog-hop over to her. Semmary had broken into heavy bouts of hysterical laughter.

This year was different.

Clopin entered the cathedral first from where he'd come in three years ago.

Semmary waited a few minutes, then entered through the front door, walking at a brisk pace. She was going through déjà vu.

Clopin dropped from the ceiling, but instead of landing right in front of her or even a few feet away, he landed right on top of her. They fell, and after a few seconds of laughter and horseplay, Semmary found herself lying on him, their faces centimeters apart. They watched each other, their laughter dying down considerably.

Without warning, they both pulled their heads together and their lips met. It was more of an experiment than anything else; they wanted to see how it would turn out with each other.

Clopin pulled away and frowned. "Did you—?"

Semmary shut him up by kissing him again, and Clopin returned the kiss, holding her face in his hands. After a few seconds, however, Semmary pulled away sharply and sat up.

"_Damn_!" she cursed, standing up. She covered her face in her hands and turned her back to Clopin, who sat up, still frowning. She didn't notice that he didn't chastise her for swearing in the cathedral.

Clopin was confused. "There was…." He stared at the stone wall. "I felt…nothing."

"You too?" Semmary asked, distraught.

Clopin rubbed his forehead and stood up. "I don't understand."

"Maybe we're just supposed to be friends."

Those words stung both of them slightly.

"Let's," Clopin stammered. "Let's forget this whole thing."

For the first time since they met, Clopin and Semmary refused to look at each other.


	12. Twelfth

**Hey, guys, sorry it took me so long to update; I haven't forgotten you! I was really busy with the Spring Trip for my chorus class and watching my friends in the school musical...but I'm back on track again.**

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**A Tale of Devoted Vigilance**  
Twelfth

The new judge was set up in Paris a month before Christmas. A few days after Christmas, however, he moved the Court of Miracles to a different location. This highly amused Clopin, who found the judge's authority to be a huge joke.

He woke up to Semmary nudging his shoulder lightly. "Who's dyin'?" he asked, scratching his newly grown goatee as he stretched, yawning.

"He's here," Semmary muttered to him, causing him to shoot out of bed, not bothering to replace a shirt and almost flying out of the caravan.

Clopin grinned as he stood in the doorway and watched as a man with dark brown hair and searching green eyes stood in the middle of the Court of Miracles, looking very perturbed. The king crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

"What a silly person," he said to Semmary as she came up beside him. "I can tell already that he should not be taken seriously."

Semmary eyed the scars all over Clopin's back and arms. "What are those from?"

Clopin frowned and looked at her. "Oh," he said, nodding. "The rose window." He pointed to the judge. "What's his name again? PeeWee?"

"Pierre. Jacques-Lecard Pierre."

"How…." He waved a hand, searching for the right word. "How…arrogant."

Semmary was still eyeing the scars.

"Get over it!" Clopin snapped, throwing a stolen soldier's shirt on, causing Semmary to roll her eyes. He crossed his arms again. "Now…how many rocks do you suppose we'd get away with hurling at him?" he asked, stroking his goatee.

Semmary scowled. "Don't you even think about it." She crossed her arms as well. "We don't need more enemies."

Clopin turned to face her. "What's the matter, Imp?"

Semmary was silent before turning back into the caravan and sitting on her bed, sulking.

Clopin sighed and shut his door. "Semma—"

"Maman died three years ago today."

This rendered Clopin silent, and his shoulders drooped slightly. "Oh, Duckling…" he said softly. "I'm so sorry."

"It doesn't matter…."

"Of _course_ it does!"

"It really doesn't—"

"Come on."

Semmary blinked. "What?"

"Come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Clopin said, taking Semmary's hand and leading her out of the caravan.

oOooOo

"This is amazing," Semmary breathed. "I can see all of France from here."

Clopin grinned as he looked down at France from the highest point of Notre Dame, Semmary standing beside him. They were both leaning on the stone railing. "It's my favorite place in the world."

"I feel like royalty," Semmary laughed. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I do too," Clopin joked. They chuckled, then admired the sunset for a little longer in silence.

"Why did you do it?" Semmary asked suddenly.

Clopin was startled by the question. "Do what, Princess?"

Semmary sniffed. "Well…why'd you save me?"

This was a question that Clopin had never really thought of the answer to before. He wasn't even sure he really _knew_ the answer. When it came to things like this, he was usually quick on his feet and gave a random answer; this time he didn't. He wanted her to know the truth.

Whatever that may have been.

"I don't know," he said honestly, frowning at the last ray the sun was tucking in. "I suppose…." He rubbed the stone railing with one finger idly. "I suppose I did it because you're my comrade." He grinned. "My partner in crime."

"You could've left me at home to deal with my father…." Her voice dropped. "But you didn't."

Clopin crossed his arms and grinned sideways at her. "Don't you dare get emotional on me, now."

Semmary smirked. "What? You have no feelings; you said so yourself."

"It's a long way down, Imp."

"Now you're threatening to push me over the edge?" Semmary looked shocked. "Gee, when they said you were apathetic, I didn't expect them to actually _mean_ it."

Clopin frowned. "Who said I was apathetic?"

Semmary laughed and turned to begin the descent to the ground. "It's not important."

"Of course it is! Who said I was apathetic?! It was Father Payl, wasn't it? I always _knew_ he was a demon…."


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